A Holy Saturday Reflection

I hope all of my vast readership (all 3 of you (smiley face)) is having a blessed Holy Week.  I am, but as they say in those Monty Python skits, I would like to make a complaint…

Yesterday’s Good Friday services – the Stations of the Cross and the Veneration of the Cross – were not Guillain-Barre recoveree friendly, with all the genuflecting.  I told the deacons after the Veneration that they might consider moving the intercessory intention for the atheists to the beginning, because after the 15th “Let us kneel!” and “Let us stand” I have no compassion left for boneheads like Richard Dawkins.  Just saying.  It would probably help if I was in better shape weight-wise than Elvis two weeks before he died: my knees remember when I weighed less than 200 lbs: with every genuflection my knees exclaim “Bloody hell!”  Yes, my knees are English, and sound just like Bob Hoskins, who starred in “The Long Good Friday” coincidentally.

Our dog – who is going on 15 – apparently now has a prostate bigger than his head, as he needs to be walked 4x as many times as he used to, or he’ll pee in the living room.  My youngest son suggested euthanasia, which is probably a preview of my future when my demands for chocolate pudding get tiresome (I tease, I joke son).  I had to run the carpet cleaner this morning, because hypersensitivity to odors is one of the charming side-effects of Mary’s chemotherapy.  She’s doing a better this time around after her second infusion Thursday, after she hydrated well on Wednesday, and continues to do so.  She’s also more conscious of timing on meds, and I think just knowing what to expect helps.  She is starting to lose her beautiful hair, which I know is a great trial for her.

Yesterday I had my now-annual skin review (melanoma in 2012), and that minx Ms. Patel always finds something to biopsy on my warty hide.  This time it was a “bump” (How long have you had that bump?  Bump? What bump?) and as it was next to my left eye they couldn’t put a bandage on it.  So when you see me use any “Ya gotta cut me Mick!” jokes you have in your repertoire.  She told me the eye would feel fat and numb for a few days, and I replied good, just like the rest of me.  (rim shot!)

Changing the tone, I listened Thursday to Steve Ray on Catholic radio describe in painful detail what crucifixion is all about.  It was invented in the 6th century B. C. by the Persians – you know, the guys we are going to let get a nuclear weapons capability – and diabolically perfected by the Romans.  Just a taste of this – if you are interested in the nitty gritty it is easily googled – is the median nerves that run through the wrists and ankles.  Medical people found out during the First World War that men wounded – e.g. shot through the wrist – in a way that damaged these median nerves that even morphine was no easement of their excruciating pain.  So you can image what a 9-inch nail will do.  ISIS in the meantime professed their plans this week to put Fr. Tom – the priest they captured in Yemen when they killed the Sisters of Charity – through the full Passion experience.  Hopefully this a rumor and proves to be unfounded, but based on past experience with these wicked men would we be shocked and surprised if they did?  Keep Fr. Tom in your prayers that he is either eventually released, or if killed at least in some relatively merciful way.

My Savior chose the most painful, gruesome, humiliating way to die to show His love for me.  My suffering in this life are a Sandals complete package vacation compared to His suffering.  How incredibly awesome our Christian faith is.

God bless, and have a glorious Easter,

Tom

 

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